"Take the keys. Open the desk, and take from the inner drawer all that air-tight
package with the square crystal top.""What's that?""In the case under the lock,
take out that casket. Break off the top, smooth the casket down so that the
paper and the letters may be visible; open one compartment of the case, and show
the envelopes which are printed with the seal in imitation of the clergyman's
autograph. I will take hold of the papers, and examine the likeness to the
cabinet."Thus instructed, Luke unlocked the desk, and rapidly began to draw out
the papers. A sudden cry from Dorothy, who was startled when he raised the cover
of the casket, made him a hasty turn, and he had, to his astonishment,
discovered the Earl's features with the candle placed so that its light fell
upon the thin, proud lines of his thin, wasted face. He had been so absorbed in
the scrutiny of the papers that he did not hear the opening of the door, until
Dorothy exclaimed in alarm:"Oh, uncle, don't! It's a dead face!""It is the face
of a man, but it is the face of a divine," said Luke,gently. "Since yesterday
evening this old face has been glorified by spiritual ideas and purposes. To me
it has become a personality.It first emerged from the grave--a living
intelligence."Dorothy made no comment."I have been, as you may remember,
concerned in a spiritual correspondence with the dead. I read the manuscript,
and it impressed me very strongly. I felt a desire to know more of the
mysterious hand that had been traced in cabalistic sign and symbol; and also to
be assured whether it was indeed a living man or not. I was greatly perplexed--
horribly perplexed--and I soon decided that all explanation was impossible. If
the desk were opened, and there were nothing in the vault but double drawers,
not a word could be changed. But the books were piled in pyramids; and I guessed
that they contained his own journal and letters, and other literary matter.
Accordingly, I decided that I must act promptly, before the facts came out, and
that results at least might be attained by action."Dorothy started up and stood
erect, white and excited."You saw his face at the church door?" she
said."Yes.""The face which looked so like his own? You recognized it as his?""I
was much affected, I may say, by the discovery, but I felt impelled to remain
quiet. This book I brought with me and found on the night I met you, in the
cabinet."A glint of intelligence, of magnetic spirit, scintillated in Dorothy's
dilated eyes, and then she spoke:"You did not bring away the book--because the
person who taught me how to read it, died in the night, when I had gone to bed.
The book contains a solution of the mystery. Can you bring it to
me?""Certainly."He took a key from his pocket, unlocked the cabinet, and drew
out the little volume."May I ask you what it contains?" she said, eagerly."It
contains some secrets which have remained hidden from everyone--except Mr. Evans
and myself," he replied. "And on one point I have but one hope. The old, unhappy
face seen by the church door was suggestive. Will you permit a copy of that book
to be brought?""I think so."She unlocked the writing-desk. As Luke had
predicted, the long,angular, old desk contained nothing but two or three
volumes."Has it not occurred to you?" he asked."I have thought that possibly he
might have placed such books in this case. They seem to be two full volumes, and
the right-hand volume is nearly gone. But how strange! And yet they correspond.
Three at least of them evidently belong to the same writer, with the same
theory."They closed the desk hastily, and as they stepped into the sunshine
without, Dorothy felt her brow wet with tears."This is an added mystery,"
remarked Luke. "We found the casket on the church steps--the casket that holds
the key of the secret.""There are two in the silver book," she rejoined, smiling
faintly."No--not only one," with a smile, "the man disguised as Mr. Ashley.""And
do you mean you think that this cover was placed upon this table by Mr.
Evans?""Yes," was the quiet answer.Slowly Dorothy took the edge of the cornice,
and cautiously lifted the cover off the table. This time she stood transfixed.
With an exclamation of delight she dropped the cover on the table again."The
corner-stone is loose," she exclaimed. "Why, this is actually lead!""Yes; lead
is probably part of the contents of the casket," answered Luke. "Then it has
fallen, and the box remained--as you found it.""Oh, what a mystery!" exclaimed
Dorothy. "If it had fallen out, then it would be in the book--in the desk."Luke
took the book from her hand and carefully opened it."This is doubtless very
important," he said. "I think we will examine the rest of the cover. Shall I
lead the way?"He opened the door through which they had entered, and they
quickly passed beyond the house, and came to the wood-road.It was a broad, well-
kept highway. The trees grew thickly on either side, and there were wagon-tracks
crossing the road. After following these a short distance, Luke saw a
dilapidated fence encroach on the highway.There were the traces of a fence-rail,
and a piece of broken fence about twelve feet long, with the rails rotted by the
herbage. Under one of these rails, Luke at once found an old traveling kerosene
lamp,containing about two quarts of oil. The lamp had evidently been left there
at midnight, and had been forgotten.Luke carefully examined the lamp; at one
side was a small cup of metal,marked "Trial of Gold;" underneath was a letter,
written in a large,angular hand, with copper edges.Upon the nearer side of the
cup was a scrap of paper, in which was printed the word "Poison;" and a tiny
stain seemed to rest upon the inner surface of the cup, as if from the spilt oil
falling.Without, of course, examining this bit of paper, Luke found the brandy
bottle which the Countess had placed in the log.He turned it over in his hand,
smelling it. "Well," he said, looking into it, "what do you think of it?"Dorothy
raised her eyes, startled and startled:"O, don't suggest such a thing!" she
exclaimed. "After having found the box--""The letter? What letter? It must be a
very important one," said Luke,sitting on one of the rustic chairs, the peculiar
odor of the oil suggesting possibilities."It's very terrible," Dorothy went on,
faintly. "And I cannot understand this horrible death--or whatever it is, death,
by liquid fire.""Have you a teaspoon, here?" asked Luke, rummaging in his
pocket. "But it is useless, for I have no glass."For a moment the girl stood
irresolute. Then she took the spoon and put it between Luke's lips."It will
choke you," she said."No, it will not, if I swallow it.""Poison--and for
what?""No matter for that now. I must think.""For Heaven's sake do not let us
talk any longer about it," she cried, despairingly. "The poison, whatever it is,
is arsenic!"Luke had scarcely spoken before the flask was uncorked and pointed
to him, pointing to the drop of oil upon the tumbler."O God! Is it not danger?"
whispered the girl. "Don't you see--it is as plain as day."Luke gazed in
astonishment at the dripping drop."You and I have hardly ever talked about it,"
he replied. "But it is a very dangerous secret, and nothing would please me
better than to disclose it.""Then for Heaven's sake disclose it!" exclaimed the
Countess, in a frenzy.Luke's eyes smiled as he replied:"It will suffice if you
place the bottle by your side.""But it is the last thing I shall ever carry,"
cried the girl, in alarm."And it would be very pleasant to me to touch it," Luke
said,reassuringly. "Besides, you will scarcely open the bottle until you go to
bed."They returned toward the house."That jar was filled to the top," said Luke,
indicating the jar. "I am surprised that you could drink it. But I suppose oil
never inebriates.""Nothing can induce me to taste it," was the answer, "and it
is not for me to say," she added, "that it has injured that man.""He thinks the
poison has killed him," said Luke; "for he died in a few minutes."CHAPTER
XXIX.PANIC.Miss Jane Drane was lying in her own room, at the top of the house,
when she was interrupted by the rumbling of wheels on the highway.She looked up,
and saw the approach of a wagon, drawn by a strong-boned cob. It was Dr. Bodley,
and as the vehicle drew nearer she saw that he was accompanied by Squire Bodley
and Jack.After greetings had passed, he hurriedly asked:"What does this mean?
Why have you found a place occupied so early in the morning?""For some of the
vaults," replied the physician, briefly. "The last person visited was Cunningham
Gilbert. This vial was produced from one of his pockets. He has not yet
returned.""Very well," answered the squire. "I will go to the vaults and see
that he is found. I want to get certain papers which he carried away with
him.""He has your professional papers?" eagerly asked Miss Drane."Yes. The
document with the third name on it is a marriage certificate with my
grandfather's indorsement. Is there anything more you wish to know?""Why are we
not informed that Mr. Luke Vernon, or whatever his given name is, has committed
suicide by poison--you gentlemen, I mean? It would be better, perhaps, for
us.""Death is a mysterious act, and awaits explanation," replied the
squire."That is so," said the doctor; "but I am much surprised that none of you
have been informed of this departure from his usual habits. You do not possess a
genuine alarm.""Do not trouble yourself to tell me anything more," said Miss
Drane."Perhaps," returned the doctor, thoughtfully, "it is best that the matter
should remain unknown. People have queer tastes, and I must try to discover the
identity of the criminal."Squire Bodley made no reply, but walked away to the
vault.By this time a wagon had drawn up at the very door. While the smith was
opening the throttle of his cart, the squire came to the gate, which he swung
back in a thoroughly domestic fashion."The Squire was going in the direction of
the vaults," the doctor explained to Miss Drane, "and his wife detained him. If
it is not too much trouble," he added, with a charming smile, "I will go in
there for a few minutes."So Miss Drane was left to entertain her prospective
cousin. Now that she had the opportunity, she felt a strong curiosity to know
more. With the lock turned upon the door, she went close to it, and, gazing
through the crevice, saw Gilbert leaning against the inner wall of the
vault,with his eyes turned toward the window.Turning away from him, she moved
slowly around the house toward the edge of the woods. But she was now beside a
path that led through the woods to a place which she remembered as the West
Branch of Paradise."To the West Branch!" she murmured. "That is a point where I
myself spent two or three happy days. At that time I thought Gilbert very
fascinating, and he seemed the only person with whom I could be continually
thrown. But now,--I never think of him; all the happiness that I had goes."She
descended the path by a circuitous path. This led to the nearest point on the
West Branch, where the water could be approached from the shore.When she came to
the stream she stopped. She could survey the scene at leisure, and not be
startled by hearing some one approaching. The bank was not fifty feet distant,
and she soon saw Gilbert and Miss Drane arrive. They lingered by the side of the
water a short time, and then left the spot.A little after dark Miss Drane and
Gilbert returned to the farm. Gilbert proposed that they should explore together
the woods, but the other objected."I feel," said Gilbert, "that I shall be
committing myself if I go alone."This argued self-confidence and confidence that
she would be safe in the company of this unconscious stranger. She consequently
remained with Mrs. Bacon, who suggested that she partake of some
refreshment.After a while they returned to the farm, and Gilbert, having divided
his admiration between Miss Drane and Miss Drane's friend, expressed an earnest
wish that he might be permitted to act as escort."No," said Mrs. Bacon, "it is
better that you two should become better acquainted before it is too late.
Gilbert, if you will remain with Miss Drane a short time in the woods, I think
the best way will be to bring some refreshments along.""Not for me," said Miss
Drane.Gilbert remained at the farm until very late.Returning home, he sat down
in the library, and folding his hands in his lap, fell into a thoughtful mood.
The autumn leaves rustled gently in the wind. Outside and inside of the room all
was quiet."Why are all these leaves in the west branch of the stream?" he said
to himself, after some minutes.No reply was made to this question.Miss Drane had
been so fascinated by the conversation of Gilbert that she forgot everything
except the young man's strange and romantic surroundings. Curiosity, curiosity,
curiosity.He returned to the woods with his thoughts fixed intently on
Dorothy,forgetting all around him. He thought of the wonderful man, of the fine
and graceful woman, of their diversity of social position, of their mutual love,
of their wonderful intimacy, and, with growing excitement,realized that the one
might be his, the other might be his, the future may contain much bliss for him
and no happiness to her, but she would always be a rich possession, and her
wealth would increase in his possession whenever it pleased him to take it away
from her.It would please him, indeed, to take her from Dorothy. It would be a
noble act, and he was ready to do it.He followed Gilbert in his first walk and
met him just as he had returned.The professor had spent the whole evening with
his friend, and, in spite of the fact that he had expected to sleep late, he was
very much rested and refreshed. Indeed, as he looked around the room, he did not
see any reason why anybody should not be asleep. The silver crescent on the
water sparkled with snow-white splendor, the mountains were flushed with
crimson,sweet and evanescent clouds were sailing in the clear sky, and the moon
shone in the heavens like a great red lamp.The sun had set, and yet the night
was no longer so dark that one might distinguish any objects. By some peculiar
motion the rays from above lit up the sky, and by the help of their feeble light
the foundations of the woods looked very beautiful."What a piece of God's earth
this is!" said the professor. "How fair it is, and how beautiful!""It is
beautiful," said Gilbert, reverently; "the beautiful works of his hands must
have appeared a little plainer to him in the still,dark night, than when the sun
shines on them."The people came forth from the summer-house just at this point,
and the party moved homeward by the same path by which they had come.All who
went down the river from X--since the party had passed did not return by the
opposite bank. Some preferred to go on to X. The party was therefore small. In
the neighborhood of twelve persons were left, three of whom were the teachers
